History Repeats Itself
by Deathberry Love
Summary: RyoSaku. It's their get together based on another couple's story. WARNING: Watch Episode 129 before reading. Read, Review and Enjoy!


disclaimer: oh you know the usual.

* * *

He was back again.

He tugged harder onto the strap of his tennis bag – the very same one with Ryoma E that he been using until now at twenty and stepped forward.

He was back again. Back in Japan. Back in the public tennis courts where he played Tezuka for the very first time.

It had been quite a while since he had been at this very spot. He now understood what his dad had meant in being "sick of steak", though he did not share the same thought on "seeing big-chested women everyday" since he did not indulge in such… _activities_.

The courts, he could see, had been renewed recently and the shiny paint gleamed brightly in the light of the setting sun. Perhaps he could stay here longer – before returning to some hotel. He felt no desire to return to the airport and get on a plane back to America despite the fact the all-important, decides-who's-on-top-of-the-tennis-world-tournament's finals were in a matter of a bit less than a week.

He kicked the dust at his feet, hands in pockets, same old Fila cap pulled down low. The roaring sound of the train rumbled past above him. The only close sound he could hear was the whirring sound of a distant machine and the repetitive strong POWs of a racket coming in contact with a tennis ball. He rounded the corner to where the single training courts were and where the auto-shoot-tennis-ball-machines (A/N: I confess I have absolutely no idea what those machines are called) were situated.

A lone figure occupied a court. The yellow tennis balls lay littered around her while she swayed and whacked the ball hard onto the wall in front of her. Ryoma could just make out a grey blur of scratches at the spot she kept hitting to.

He could only see her behind but for some strange reason it already blurrily created a familiar image in his mind. She was wearing light blue trousers and a white polo shirt. Extraordinarily long reddish-brown braids hung loosely and lead down her curved figure until her waist. Her returns were powerful and it showed potential but he could already spot one problem – her knees weren't bent enough.

The buzzing stopped as the limit of tennis balls being released ended and she hit the last shot with the last of her strength, emitting a loud shout of power as she did so. She went over to a side-bench and put away her racket, panting heavily and using the back of the hand to wipe sweat from her forehead. She took out a water bottle, took a quick swig then put it back. She cleared away the tennis balls back into the slot of the machine then picked up her side- shoulder tennis bag and walked to the little swing gate of the court.

He was about to go up to her – being Echizen Ryoma, he'd have to lecture her on how her knees should be bent even more and that she should level out her power a bit better so that some of the shots wouldn't be so weak. However, just as he made to go forward, a group of six leering men, around the same age and all carrying rackets, surrounded her.

She gasped. "So-sorry." she muttered, attempting to push her way through. But they all stopped in front of her, blocking any way of exit.

"Hey pretty girl, why not stay longer? With us?" one man sneered and roughly put his arm around her, dragging her close. She cringed visibly.

"No, no thank you." She tried pushing him away but he just held her tighter. The others laughed.

"Then how bout going somewhere else with us? Don't worry, you'll have a good time, I promise." Said another and they all laughed cruelly.

"No!" she cried, now very obviously struggling, using both hands to push the man away.

"Awww." One of them put on a sad puppy-eyed face. "How sad. Why won't you play with us?"

Another then suggested, snorting with malice. "Fine. We'll just play some tennis then. Just you and us, pretty girl."

"Ne, why don't you play some tennis with me?"

They all looked up.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Go away. This doesn't concern you." They all glared and snarled at him.

The female who had her eyes clamped shut tight in fear, slowly opened them. She couldn't help a sharp intake of breath. He was familiar. _Way _too familiar.

The Fila Cap, a red tracksuit jacket, dark-green hair, trainers, navy blue shorts and attention-drawing, sharp, amber cat-like eyes that were overshadowed by the cap.

It all seemed too much of a coincidence for this man to be dressed and looking in the exact same way that she had first seen someone important to her.

But it was all too impossible.

"Trying to be tough?"

"Ah, pretty girl you've got some pretty weedy admirer." Remarked a man who looked half Japanese, half foreign nastily and they all turned their back on Ryoma.

It was true he wasn't very tall. And he appeared to be pretty skinny.

One of them was reaching out a hand towards Sakuno's frontal area. She screamed, wriggling and kicking – actually managing to punch a guy in the stomach and kick another in the shins though that only provoked them more.

"You can judge if I'm weedy after you play me."

They all simultaneously spun towards him.

"Well. If you're so sure then. Maki – you play this asshole. Show him the proper way to lose. Then we can all have the girl in peace." One of the burlier men nodded to a tall muscular one who evidently seemed to be the strongest of them all.

"Mada Mada Dane."

Sakuno's breath caught in her throat. There was no mistaking it this time. She knew no other in the world who would say such a thing in that particular way.

"Tch, 'Made Made Dane', huh? You won't be saying that later." One of them growled. "Here." He abruptly pushed Sakuno roughly towards him and she let out a cry as she tripped into his arms. The men snickered. "You probably won't survive the match to be able to see another girl again."

She looked up, her cheeks flushed a deep red. "Ryo-Ryoma-kun?"

This was confirmation for Ryoma as well that this was without doubt, Ryuzaki Sakuno, the girl who blushed 24/7, with too long hair and who would never ever bend her knees.

He helped her stand back up straight wordlessly then slid down his bag to take out his racket. Sakuno's eyes darted between the guffawing molesters and Ryoma. She took a deep breath then grabbed Ryoma's wrist.

"Hey – whah!"

"Excuse us! We'll be leaving now!" and with that she dragged him off at high speed, out of the tennis area until they finally reached a deserted street.

"You – you." She struggled for breath and leaned over on her knees. He simply looked down at her bewildered.

"Ryo – Ryoma-kun." She began again. "I know you would've won but – but that would just anger them even more! They don't care if you win or not – you'll just – you'll just get beaten up!" She finally faced him for the first time.

"Ryoma-kun?"

"Che. Whatever." He shrugged off a hand then turned in the opposite direction and started to walk off.

"What?" she nearly dropped in disbelief. Wasn't he _listening_? Did he even acknowledge her?

"Ryoma-kun? You – you don't remember me?"

He stopped and turned around. Even with the cap, she knew an eyebrow was raised. "If I didn't why would I have let you drag me all the way here?"

"I - ," she stuttered as he continued walking farther.

"Ryoma-kun!" she called again, unable to stop herself. She hadn't seen him in around seven years and he was just walking off like that? Wasn't he supposed to be in America anyway? "What are you doing back in Japan?"

He didn't stop walking, but he raised a hand and shouted back. "Ne, do you know any good restaurants around here?"

x

* * *

Ten minutes later and they were both seated in a crowded ramen shop.

"Why are you back in Japan?" she repeated, as a waitress set down two steaming hot bowls of cha siu ramen.

"I got bored of steak." He answered without answering anything.

"Ryoma-kun!" she said, surprisingly firm.

"What?"

"You have a serious match coming up soon!"

"How do you know?"

She blushed a pretty pink. "Uh I - TV."

"Mm?" he resumed slurping up ramen.

She narrowed her eyebrows. Ah, dear character change over the years. "Ryoma-kun, do people – your family know you're in Japan?"

Incredible. She had grown a lot smarter as well.

This surprised him and he abruptly replied. "No." he yanked his cap lower.

"Where are you staying? I heard your old house is still empty, but you can't just _go _back there."

He didn't say anything and her eyes instantly filled with the well-known concern. "Ryoma-kun." She said softly. It was a pleasant surprise seeing him in such a long time but finding him so…so…_alone _and disorganized made her uncomfortable and worried.

"I'll find a hotel." he mumbled.

"Then they'll have to take down your name won't they?"

Great. His usual think-ahead-by-at-least-ten-steps brain power seemed to be letting him down.

He shrugged.

She heaved a sigh. Then she reached into her separate handbag and took out a little notebook and pen. She ripped out a scrap piece of paper and scribbled something down and slid it across the table to him.

It was an address.

"Momo-senpai." She said with a small smile. "They've got a pretty big house and I bet he'll love to see you. I'll go with you later."

"They?"

"You'll see."

They finished their ramen in another twenty minutes, split the bill then hailed a taxi.

It pulled up in front of large, brightly lit house. It had a little gate in front and through the bars he could see a well tended garden. Dutching the taxi bill as well, they clambered out. Sakuno rang the bell that was next to the gate. The gate then automatically opened. They walked up the pathway quietly and Sakuno pressed another bell at the front door.

The brown coloured door was flung open and revealed a tall lady with glasses, who had long light brown hair and black clips at each side.

"Sakuno? And - ?" the woman stepped forwards and peered at Ryoma. "Echizen-kun…Echizen-kun? Echizen-kun!"

"Eh?" how did she know him? Then his face relaxed in recognition. "Momo!" she hollered into the long hallway behind her.

"Coming!" yelled back the unmistakable voice of Momoshiro. A jolt of excitement ran through Ryoma and he couldn't help smiling.

"Sorry, Ann! I came without telling you." Sakuno said abashedly.

"It's fine! It's fine! Here, come in!" Ann waved a casual dismissal hand.

They both slipped out of their shoes and stepped up into the long wooden hallway and into a big sitting room. There were many rows of mini spotlights that lit up the room, a huge Plasma TV, a sofa, glass coffee table littered with sports and fashion magazines and a huge dining table.

"Mou, what were you yelling about?" came an irritated voice. A tall, powerfully built man came crashing down the stairs and barged into the room. Momoshiro who still looked the same as ever, though as said, taller and more muscular, had evidently just finished a shower. His hair still shined with the droplets of water in the lights and he had a towel slung around his neck.

"Look who's here!" beamed Tachibana Ann.

"Sakuno-chan! And who's this?" he arched an eyebrow and edged closer. "Eh? Eh…eh…? Uoah! Echizen!"

Ryoma lifted off his cap, grinning, as a sign of greeting.

"It really is you! Echizen!" without warning he slammed Ryoma into a tight bear hug while Ann and Sakuno stood watching and laughing. When Momo had reluctantly let go of him he stood back and said with a frown. "Don't you have a match coming up?"

"Why does everybody know…" was his return.

Momo pointed to one of the magazines on the coffee table. "Of course everybody knows. It's such a big thing! What are you doing here?"

He didn't reply.

"Sudden visit." Supplied Sakuno, plastering a sparkling smile on her face. "But he needs a place to stay."

"Of course! Of course! Always welcome here! We'll set up a room for you!" Ann bustled upstairs to prepare the guest room. Before Momo could speak and probably start a long, long, long catch-up conversation Sakuno declared. "Well, it's late. I better get going. Thanks again, Momo!"

"No problem, no problem!" grinned Momo, still overjoyed in seeing his best friend again.

"I'll take you out." Suggested Ryoma quietly.

"Huh?" she couldn't help a smile and a small warm blush. "Okay."

There were a few seconds of silence as they stood at the side of the empty road waiting. He had his hands in his pockets looking somewhere other than her. And she was staring intently at her feet.

As a black taxi swung around the corner, he uttered. "Thanks."

She gave him a warm smile. "No; it's thanks to you back at the tennis courts. Hey," she handed him a slip of paper. Scribbled on it were two different numbers both mobile and home. She went red but ploughed on. "If you ever get – come back to Japan – you know – but there's no need, I mean – you won't even – ,"

"Okay. I'll keep it." He cut across her coolly and tucked the piece of paper inside his pocket.

The taxi braked to a halt in front of them. She got in. The window next to her was conveniently open. "Good luck with your match!"

"Mn? Oh." He added. For some reason he seemed to have reddened - or was it the light? He looked away and mumbled. "Don't wear that – ," Sakuno looked down at her own attire, astonished. " – it – it doesn't really fit you. See you." and he hurriedly turned on his heel and headed back into the house.

"Wha-what?" she managed. The taxi driver in front of her smiled in the mirror. "You've got a very honest boyfriend there." he commented with a knowing nod.

She flamed an even deeper shade of red. "He – he's not - !" but he gave her a wink and started the car.

She stared down at her own clasped hands in her lap, her heart was jumping at a mile per second and she smiled the whole way back to her little flat.

x

* * *

"-Taka-san works in an even bigger and better shop now! - "

"… Tezuka – no – not really buchou, hey? He's gone back to Germany ."

"… and Fuji's traveling around the world for his photography portfolio - ,"

" Don't forget Inui, he works as a professor in a university near here - ,"

" Oh and Viper! You'll never guess – he's the top icon for a new gym in Tokyo. I'll never understand how he got that job. Must be because "scary-faced" is _in _and_ cool _right now - ,"

"Momo be nice!"

"Fine, fine…Eiji and Oishi teach doubles at a really high standard tennis school - ,"

"We just got engaged and moved in together. Ann's got a business in fashion as a designer and I work at an advertising agency – in the food industry." Momo concluded with a sly smirk.

" Everybody's got an interesting life."

"Not as flashy as yours Echizen. Really, you're going to be top of the tennis world! Samurai Junior." He added, using Ryoma's tabloid name.

Ryoma bit his tongue in annoyance. "How about Ryuzaki?"

At this, both eager, immaculate faces fell.

"What?" he pressed on, sitting up a little straighter on the sofa. Ann and Momo exchanged dark looks.

"She works as a tennis instructor down at the R Tennis Center."

"What's wrong with that?"

Ann sighed. And aching for her close friend was significant in her eyes. "R Tennis Center was originally started by Ryuzaki-sensei. She passed away two years ago in a car crash. She left and entrusted the center in Sakuno's hands. So she trained really hard to get good and be applicable to be the next manager there. Except that after the incident, less and less parents entrusted their children to learn and go there. They earn very little now, the pay is bad even for Sakuno who's the manager. Then some rich company bought the land, including the center. They were overpowered. The company changed many things. Sakuno was manager no more and merely an instructor that worked there. Business became worse and worse and then the big company just didn't bother investing in it anymore and now they're far poorer than before the center was sold. And after all, being a tennis coach isn't even her ambition nor is it her better talent. She wants to do something different, has the potential to choose a different job. But being Sakuno, she feels guilty ditching her own grandmother's effort and hard work into building up the center."

Ryoma sat in silence, digesting the news. "What's she good at then?"

"Singing." The both said at once. "She's brilliant. Really excellent. You know, right after graduation someone actually offered her a deal. She prepared a demo CD to send over and even went to learn English so that she'd have more open options – she's really fluent in English now, even without a Japanese accent. But then it happened. And she dropped her own dreams and went to continue her grandmother's…"

Momo swiftly got up, opened a small cupboard beneath the TV, rummaged around and brought out a CD, slipped it into the player and turned the volume up.

A sweet, light but strong, yet not too high-pitched or airy voice flowed out of the speakers. It was soothing, yet was catchy to keep the listener awake and listening intently.

It must've seemed lame but he felt strangely calm and compelled to just sit there and listen on.

x

* * *

"Excellent return Tomorio-chan! Keep going!'

POW! Footsteps. POW! Footsteps.

"Don't swerve your racket too much, you'll either put in too much strength or lose balance!"

"O-okay!" the girl panted.

POW! Footsteps. POW! Foosteps. BOUNCE.

"Good! It's nearly time anyway."

Gulps of water were sloshed down the throat of a little brown-haired girl.

He walked over to the wired partition of the courts and observed the ending lesson with interest whilst sipping a much-missed can of grape Ponta.

The little girl whose bushy hair was tied up in two high ponytails at the side was packing away her racket. She had a mole under one eye and her mouth seemed to resemble… someone…whose name he vaguely remembered began with an H.

"Remind your mother to get you new grip tape! And remember – _bend you knees_." Sakuno called as the girl skipped off happily, out of the courts.

"You're one to talk."

She looked over. Ryoma was strolling into the court one hand holding his trusty can of Ponta, his famous red racket tucked underneath one arm.

"Ryoma-kun!" she exclaimed. "How'd you find this place?"

He shrugged but then took off his red jacket. "Looking pretty good." He smirked.

She instinctively looked down at her outfit. It wasn't unlike a certain brown haired mother. It had a whole neck collar that then lead down to a light blue sleeveless top, then compiled with a white mini tennis skirt that had a pink stripe up the side.

"I – I didn't change it just because you – you said so!" she protested, her face feeling hot.

What he said next didn't seem to match what she had just said. "Let's see how much you've improved. Let's play a game. One set match."

_So I see. He was talking about my tennis skills…my TENNIS SKILLS._

"What?" she said stupidly and gaped in horror. Some things never change

"Fine, just a rally. C'mon.." He still had that cocky voice which hinted to his younger tone and sent a fizzle of electricity down her spine.

"Ryoma-kun…"

"How can you say no to a rally?"

True enough. She grabbed her new purple racket off the bench.

x

* * *

Half an hour later and they had both flopped down onto the side bench. Sakuno was puffing for breath; Ryoma merely wiped a few beads of sweat coolly. He leaned back on the bench, draining the remaining swallows of Ponta whilst she drank deeply from a water bottle.

"Not bad."

"Re-really?" she was tired but her eyes shone with excitement and content.

"Hey…" After a while, she decided to speak up. "Momo and Ann told you about this place, didn't they?"

He didn't answer but tipped his hat over to the front to cover his eyes completely. She smartly took that for a "yes".

"Whatever they said about me not liking it here – it's all wrong. I enjoy my job here very, very much." She informed him clearly in a rigid yet stubborn voice but the spiel sounded well-rehearsed and practiced.

He was about to retort back with some smartass comment to make her own up when he caught sight of a familiar, burly, mean-faced, Eurasian man who looked intensely pissed off.

He sat up at once and held up his cap higher to check clearly. "Oi, isn't that …?" he shot Sakuno an icy look. She obliged right away.

"Yes, that is the man from yesterday."

"What's he doing here?"

"He - ," Sakuno looked as if though she had a real problem searching for the right words.

"He's the boss of this place. Did Momo and Ann tell you what happened here?"

He nodded briefly.

"Well he was one of the changes. He overtook my seat as manager. I don't get why they won't move him someplace else. They already have no interest in this run-down center so why place any of their staff here? He uses the most brutal violent ways to "teach" the children that come here. And when he gets drunk…it's - !" She shook her head, disgust and fear engraved clearly on her usual soft, gentle face.

"Mm-mm?"

"Ah!" her expression returned to normal. "Ryoma-kun, shouldn't you be going back to Japan? The match is in only five days!"

He looked sideways at her. "Why are you so worried? It's not like it's your match."

"Wha-what? I – Ryoma-kun…I don't know!" she wrung her hands, looking flustered.

"You didn't need to answer." He said in a bored voice.

Sakuno's hunched over figure shot up straightaway, confusion and embarrassment clouding her large hazel orbs. "Then why - ?"

"No, it's nothing. It's already six o'clock. I'm heading back. You done here?"

"I have one more lesson in a few minutes…" she trailed off, staring at her own watch.

"Right, I'll be off then." He zipped up his red jacket picked up his racket and empty can and headed towards the gate.

"Ryoma-kun!" she said, alarmed at his abrupt departure. "Good luck in America!" she called. He looked back for a second to give her a quick glance. She was beaming happily and proudly, waving.

"Heh." He leaned his cap further again to shield his eyes, coy smile hitching up the corners of his lips.

x

* * *

Problem now was, should he listen to her? Go back to America and get ready and pumped up for his major match? Stay and mooch around the area, causing worry and stirring up crazy rumours half way across the world?

She had her point, her argument won over him. A taxi whizzed in front of his extended hand. He would go back to Momo and Ann's to bade goodbye then head for the airport. Just as he tugged on the latch and pulled open the door. Three women – mothers – with young children all carrying rackets, came hurrying into the distance from the direction of R Tennis Center. One of the children was crying noisily into his arms whilst the others had slipped arms around his shoulder. The mothers looked both outraged and scared. They were jabbing heatedly to each other.

"How dare he? That so-called coach, attack his own students! I know we all agreed to keep going there for Ryuzaki-san and for the sanity of her granddaughter but it's getting wilder and wilder – and not in a good way."

"I say I feel a lot sorrier for Ryuzaki-sama's granddaughter. Still standing firm and working under that monster of a man. She's really the only one who's footing up against that fiend. Did you hear how she was beaten up by him a few months back? If I was her I'd report it."

"She can't, can she? They're still legally under SunnyStone Company. They're filthy rich – getting into a court with them means instant loss and paying lots and lots of money."

"Oh darling." One of them added to the tearing boy. "He won't hurt you again. I'll personally ask for them to switch you to go under dear Sakuno-chan or another of those trainers if he really does."

The whole group tottered off and round the corner, disappearing from view.

The taxi driver drummed his steering wheel impatiently, demanding. "Are you getting in or not?"

For once in his life, Echizen Ryoma was stuttering unsurely. "I – uh…yeah…I'm getting in."

He told the aggravated driver his best friend's address. But the airport was now wiped off his to-go-list.

x

* * *

Saturday. The match was only four days away. Five days, considering the time difference between Japan and America, but whatever. Echizen Ryoma was not concerned about his own match.

Dressed in grey shorts and a crisp white shirt with blue star logo, he grabbed his racket from the doorway, fitted on his hat and stepped into his trainers.

"Where are you going?" questioned Momo from the hallway, holding heavy files in his hand, pen tucked on ear and oddly wearing thin glasses.

"Out."

"I figured. You coming back, ever?" The simplicity and bluntness of their conversation seemed to only be understood between the both of them.

"Probably."

"You better. After your match as well." Momo grinned.

"Maybe. See you." And he stepped into the glorious morning sunlight.

He took the familiar paths and roads, his destination being R Tennis Center.

x

* * *

She found him rather than he found her. He was looking around the courts with dire interest in the on-going lessons. The few instructors were female and male, mainly middle-aged. There were a lot more lessons going on during a Saturday. And the atmosphere was happy and encouraging – as did both instructors and students. There were even a few parents, relatives and companions of the students amongst the tennis courts, observing and watching, enjoying the entertainment and the warmth from the sun. Scary-molester-drunkard-abusive-man didn't seem to be here yet. Ryoma hadn't scrounged the courts behind the administration shed but he didn't need to. Sakuno had come stumbling out of the shed, clutching her arms that were a messy infusion of purple bruises, red scratches, grey and brown dust and yellow, white and beige bandages. Her hair was already drooping and loosing her braids, loose strands matted her face and she looked crumpled, terrified and shaken up.

"Ryuzaki!" his eyes widened and he had shouted out her name before he knew it. She looked up and her pupils expanded too when she caught sight of who had called her. A few onlookers swiveled around in interest and their curious expressions turned to immediate looks of shock and grimace. Some were already shaking their heads. Soon more people took notice, some of the students perceptibly tensed; even some of the other coaches looked both alert and wary.

Ryoma calmed himself down when he reached her. He told himself not to yell some more or else he'd give away himself. "What happened to you?" he said in a cool voice.

Her eyes swept sideways frantically - anywhere but his amber spheres. Her arms had automatically wrapped each other behind her. At last she looked up unwillingly. It seemed she had managed to roughly plaster a smile on her face. "Tripped in the shed over there, I – I accidentally brought down a whole supply of rackets on - over me. I'm - ," she gave a weak cheery laugh, "– such a klutz. Anyway, I'll see you then Ryoma-kun!" and she dodged past him and ran around the corner, away from view.

He was speechless. His eyes were narrowed and his lips were pursed into a thin line. His hands were still stuffed in his pockets. But he was speechless. At that moment, two teenagers came running out from the back courts.

"Thank God, we got away fast." One of them was breathing heavily.

"Ye –yeah." Agreed the other. "If he hadn't – well, we would've been next. That kid's lucky that Ryuzaki nee-chan was there to save him."

"No kidding. I feel sorry for her though. I can't believe Coach Taylor's already freakin' drunk in the morning…"

"Hey," the capped man strolled over to them and asked unperturbedly, a touch of cockiness in his voice. "Is that…Coach Taylor still in the court?"

x

* * *

"Ryuzaki nee-chan!"

The little orange-haired eight year old she had protected earlier on, ran up to her as she sat on a secluded bench away from the courts, tending to her wounds.

"What's the matter?" she asked the out of breath boy kindly.

He explained everything to her – that the strange man she had hurriedly gotten away from was challenging the terrifying Coach Taylor to a match.

He improvised, waving his arms riotously.

"He doesn't even seem at all scared! I don't think he knows what he got himself into!"

Sakuno's hazel pupils widened in shock and horror. "Bring me there." She told the little boy.

x

* * *

"Stupid kids. Don't even learn properly. Pah, they drive me insane!."

The man crushed an empty Ponta can beneath his feat, driving it clear into the ground.

"Ah. I found you." Ryoma grinned, racket resting on his shoulder, leaning lazily against the post of the court lights.

The large man spun around.

"…you" his small grey, drab eyes staring in recognition.

"Why don't you teach me some tennis?"

A small crowd of people had gathered around the scene. Whispers, mutters and shaking of heads indicating disapproval and pathetic passed through the whole horde.

The beastly man's thick eyebrows jerked. "_You_?" he repeated, and gave a snicker of sheer disbelief. It sounded like a cow farting (whatever that sounds like).

"Yes, _me_." Ryoma repeated, provoking the huge male whose jaw was convulsing so much that it looked like he was trying to chew his teeth off. "Is that all you can say?"

If it was possible, the man had transformed into half a bull. "You pick the wrong opponent kid, too late to back out now."

Ryoma bit back another insult that he intended to hurl. Why did people still use the word _kid _to offend him? He was twenty for God's sake.

They stepped into the court. Ryoma took off his jacket. For a fraction of a second he looked baffled deciding where to place it.

Just as Coach Taylor had violently hauled somebody out of the crowd to be the judge, a young lady dashed right into the thicket of people, slipping her way up to the front. She reached the rail and looked at the thinner and younger one of the men.

"Ryoma-kun!" she cried. People turned to goggle at her.

"Oh. You're here." He walked over to the wall where she was standing above and handed her his jacket. "Keep it for me. It should be over soon."

She mechanically took it but protested further. "Ryoma-kun! Just what are you _thinking_!" she was so distressed he was half expecting her to burst into tears, forgetting that this was a much more mature Sakuno. She gripped his hand and for a second they both stared at each other. His eyes weren't devoid of expression and hers was very much open.

"So-sorry…" She muttered.

He gave a nonchalant jolt of his shoulders. As if in slow motion, she released his hand.

The judge – now perched nervously on the high chair cleared his throat uncertainly. He scanned the crowd uneasily as if willing someone to come and take his place.

Coach Taylor shot him a death glare.

" Uhh…One set match! Taylor, to serve!"

The serve was fast, spinning at the back of Ryoma's side of the court and bouncing off towards the wall. The watchers held their breath.

A fresh wave of murmurs and whispers began.

"He may be violent but he really_ is_ a pro!"

"I can't believe it! He's supposed to be drunk!"

"15-Love!"

"Tch." Coach Taylor spat. "Such a thing is trivial for me."

"Trivial?" Ryoma grinned. Sakuno could even see clearly the same person when he was twelve, always wearing the cocky, you're-so-Mada-Mada-Dane-air. "That was slow."

"Slow?" echoed the man at the other side furiously. Then his face broke into a malevolent snarl. "You're bluffing way too much for your own good boy." He held up his racket, threw up the ball and served.

Ryoma's arrogant idiom turned at once to boredom and annoyance. "I am not a_ boy_." He returned the serve with such force and power, pinpointed so accurately that it zoomed right onto the chin of Coach Taylor, knocking him off his feet and hard onto his back on the gravelly tennis court pavement.

The crowd's gasps and exclamations couldn't have been clearer. Some were pointing obviously at the fallen figure of the coach. Some couldn't hide grins. Some merely looked awestruck at Ryoma.

Sakuno held her breath. Of course he would win. She had expected it without a doubt. The problem was what was going to happen _after _he won. He was going to get pounded.

But she needn't have worried. Coach Taylor lost his first service game. Ryoma had him by his knees by the time it was his turn to serve again. He tossed his racket away still on his knees and gave a loud shriek heavenwards, causing the spectators to jump or giggle at.

"Che." Ryoma arched an eyebrow at the defeated man and swung his racket over his shoulder again. "You couldn't even finish the game. How boring."

There were loud cheers and shouts as Ryoma serenely walked out of the court. He was thumped on the back, even hugged by random people whilst others jeered openly at the Coach.

He searched the crowd for the face of the long, brown-haired girl. Where the hell was she? Ignoring the people around him, he dove into the sea of people but he gave up soon enough. She was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, he left R Tennis Center. He checked the street up and down but she was nowhere. Feeling slightly disconcerted he flagged down a taxi, got in and headed off to Momo's residence.

x

* * *

"I'm so sorry, sir! But there really are no more seats! The earliest plane that you can get on is on Friday itself."

"Che." He said without much tone in his voice.

"I'm betting you're going to America to go see the last match of the Open right? That's the major reason all the flights are so packed right now. Everyone's eager to see the final." She attempted a feeble smile upon seeing Ryoma's cold demeanor.

Was she _blind_? Did she not _see _his passport?

"Whatever." He re-gathered his documents and left the counter, sauntering off to look at the immigration gate. He had no chances left. He was going to miss his match. The whole tennis world was going to on his back for years.

"Ryoma-kun! Ryoma-kun! Here! Here!" yelled out a familiar voice. He inquisitively spun on the spot to see who was calling him. It couldn't be Ann or Momo – they had already said proper and official goodbyes back at the house. Well then who –

"Ryoma-kun!" two long braids bounced and flew wildly behind the woman's back, her face was bearing a radiant smile. She was dragging a large-sized powder blue suitcase behind her, in her other hand she was waving two pieces of paper – they seemed to be tickets.

It was rare, yes, but Ryoma was stupefied as he saw the running figure approach him. He was stunned to his very toes.

She finally braked in front of him. "Ryoma-kun!" she repeated, clutching her chest for oxygen. "You're going – America."

He found his voice. "There are no more flights." He said plainly.

She shook her head and at last, faced him squarely. "You've _got_ to get back, haven't you?"

He looked blank. "Of course."

"I've got – tickets. The plane leaves in an hour!" She brandished the two pieces of paper and held them out for him to see.

"You've got…tickets." He repeated in a slightly strangled voice. "For the both of us."

Her eyes fell. "Well – I packed everything – left the center in one of the other instructors, I've got my passport and… I - thought…" she trailed off, rubbing her cheek in embarrassment. Her hands with the tickets fell limp to her side. It was the worst outcome of the efforts to do something for him from the day she had met him. How could it be this much later and she _still_ was so dumb?

Then he suddenly bent down and gently slipped both tickets from her hand. He then stuffed them in his pockets and took her hand. She looked up.

He shrugged. "Planes leaves in an hour, doesn't it?"

She nodded slowly.

"Then let's go."

x

* * *

"Amazing! It was straight victories after that wasn't it?" said a little girl with particularly long hair in the shade of dark-green. She was poring over a photo album.

A fair woman who had waist length reddish-brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail nodded, a bright smile on her face.

"Amazing!" repeated the little girl, impressed.

"Che."

"Why'd you come back here?" the little girl directed her interested gaze at her father then her eyes swept around her surroundings. A nice house, with a dusty tennis court and a huge bell…

He looked bored. "How am I supposed to know?"

"Why'd you stop being pro?" pressed on the girl, intrigued.

"It wasn't interesting anymore. I've beaten everybody out there."

"No you haven't!" said the girl indignantly. "There are so many new pros out there that you haven't challenged!"

He didn't reply, but got to his feet. "I'm going outside. Tennis." He added to his wife with a small smirk on his face.

Mother and daughter were left alone in the living room.

The mother read the little girl's mind straightaway. "Go on then. Go practice with him. Just be back in an hour. You've still got your homework to do."

The girl turned a warm pink on her cheeks – no doubt a trait from her mother but then said defiantly and with a look of confidence that belonged to none other than her father, she declared. "I'm going to break history! When I enter Seigaku, I'm going to be the first ever female Regular!"

The mother smiled encouragingly. "Go on." She repeated, giving the little girl a gentle push.

The girl sprinted outside, her dark-green hair which was tied up into a high ponytail bouncing and swaying merrily behind her.

She was shouting about something.

Ryoma poked his head around the sliding door, narrowing his eyes at his wife. "What exactly did you say to her?"

She merely beamed back at him. For a split second he returned the gesture of warmth, his eyes were rid of all boredom when –

"Daad! Teach me the Twist Serve! Then the Cyclone Smash!"

The man sighed as he resumed looking pestered.

Sakuno flashed him the same "go on" smile and he went back out into the courtyard.

She closed the album then settled back down, gazing out into the glinting sunlight that came in through the open doors. It was one of those moments where she could see right through her husband.

_You're eagerly waiting for the day you can fight with your new rival. Right, Dear? _


End file.
